Chasing Love
by PuraJazzBot
Summary: For the Lover100 challenge community on LJ, featuring my OC Pursuit, this series contains short stories focusing on various points in her life, and her relationships with the people around her, including canon charas like Prowl and Jazz
1. 018 Accident

For those who liked Road to Recovery, here's more back ground on Prowl's creator Pursuit and her life. For more on Flattop's background, do check out "Tales to Last a Lifetime" by TiryaKing... also right here on ffnet.

For those not in the know, she is Prowl's creator, hails from Praxus and has a similar physical structure to him in that she's monochromatic (black and light grey), has doorwings and a red chevron. Her alternate mode on Earth is a Ford Street KA convertible (Google it) which is a very small, feminine car.

She is quite the maternal femme and has strong maternal instincts in that she will defend her creations (or whoever else she's fond of) with everything she has. She is a civilian, but can snipe when she needs to.

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Title: **Loss And Gain  
**Fandom: Transformers G1  
Characters/Pairings: Patrol, Prelude, Pursuit  
Prompt: #018 Accident.  
Rating: PG  
Genre: Relationships – het, family  
Word Count: 1,019  
Summary: When one soul leaves this world, it allows for another to enter  
Disclaimer: Transformers general concept is Hasbro's. Pursuit, Prelude and Patrol are mine.  
Author Notes: Takes place just before the war spreads to the rest of the planet.

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The tiny fledgling spark glowed dimly within the small energy chamber and Patrol gazed at it in wonder and awe from where he lay in his berth. He still couldn't believe that such a beautiful little thing had come partly from him. It was smaller than he knew the average spark to be, but having tried so hard for so long to produce one, he was not going to complain about size. His only worry at the moment was whether it would survive till the body was ready.

An arm draped over his mid-section and he glanced over at his mate, who looked back at him with shining blue optics.

"Don't worry about the spark, love," she said softly. "She's strong, she'll survive."

Patrol quirked a bit of a smile. "You think it's a femme?"

"I know it is," she replied. "Call it instinct, but I just know it."

"And who am I to question that instinct, Prelude?" he asked.

"My wonderful, loving mate, that's who." She nuzzled him.

He kissed her. "And there's no greater femme I'd rather be bonded to, m'love."

She smiled at him, touched his cheek and moved to get up. He gently touched the energy chamber, then moved to follow her. Prelude was right, though she hadn't said any actual words. There was still work to be done on the body-shell before it could house a spark.

They'd have to make it smaller so that the little spark wouldn't be overwhelmed by the amount of energy required of it to power a larger body; and let it grow and develop on its own, replacing the plating accordingly till it – she – matured. A little femme of his very own, Patrol could hardly believe it.

"Patrol, I know you're excited, but the shell is not going to make itself," Prelude told him with a chuckle.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure you can manage the rest by yourself?"

"I'll be fine, love. If anything goes wrong, and I hope to Primus nothing does, I'll call you."

Prelude nodded. "Alright. I'm posted to the fair today, they're having an exhibition by the fliers and they're expecting a large crowd, so I've got to help them keep things under control and make sure no one gets hurt."

"Sure you don't want my help?"

"Love, your idea of crowd control is exercising your rifle. I'll be fine. Besides, our sparkling needs her body."

"Be careful then." He kissed her.

"Always am, love." She kissed him back. "Take care of our little."

"Always will."

Prelude left and Patrol spent much of the orn diligently working on the sparkling's body. He gave her the pretty, graceful doors similar to his mate's, and fashioned a sharp red chevron for her that was something like his. He only stopped now and then to check on the spark and make sure it was properly energized.

Sometime later he heard the loud roar of flier engines overhead and soon after, what sounded like a small explosion. A couple of breems passed before he heard sirens screaming away in the distance. Fear, and a good deal of pain, suddenly gripped his spark and he dropped to his knees.

"Primus, no…" he murmured. "No, please…."

There was a knock on the door, and he stumbled numbly towards it, hoping beyond hope that he would see his mate outside.

"There was an accident at the fair," the mech on the doorstep told him. "One of the fliers malfunctioned and crashed into the med area. Prelude was treating an injury when it happened and took the brunt of it. We tried to save her, but she didn't make it. I'm very sorry."

His mate… his beautiful, loving Prelude… gone…

… Patrol spent the next few orns in a numb, listless daze, just sitting in the main room of their home and doing nothing – not energizing, not recharging. The place just seemed so silent and lonely without her. He had claimed her body and done all the rites, and now there was nothing left to do. Nothing he wanted to do.

Then a shrill beeping from his room startled him out of his stupor. Heading inside he saw the little spark flickering in its chamber, looking to be in obvious distress. Primus, how could he have forgotten?! He hurried over and switched the chamber to the back up power while he rebooted the main supply.

There was no way in the Pit he was going to lose this femme, too – his sparkling, the only thing he had left.

"I'm so sorry, little one."

Patrol berated himself for wallowing so much in his grief that he had nearly come to neglect the most precious thing he had right now. He owed it to all of them to see that this little one had a healthy, happy life ahead of her. He looked at the spark, relieved to see it slowly strengthening to its usual glow.

"I promise you, little. I wont let any harm come to you."

… From that point on, Patrol channeled everything he had into building and completing the body-shell, to the point of bringing down an engineer to make sure everything was ready to house a spark.

Finally, one orn, he lifted the little spark out of its chamber and held it in his hands for a moment, feeling its soft warmth on his fingers, before carefully placing it into the spark chamber and sliding the cover closed. Then he waited in anticipation.

The body twitched as the spark began to alter it to its requirements, sliding armor around and configuring systems to its needs. Patrol watched all this intently, for the first time in vorns feeling hope and love grow in his own spark. At last the optics lit up with a pretty, pale blue glow and he felt his own optics burn. They were just like Prelude's… same color, too.

He smiled down at the sparkling as their optics met and he saw recognition in them, gently stroking her head.

"Hello, little Pursuit," he said. "I'm Patrol, your creator."

And I love you.

END.


	2. 072 Fixed

Title: **Potential.  
**Fandom: Transformers G1  
Characters/Pairings: Pursuit, Patrol  
Prompt: #072 Fixed.  
Rating: G  
Genre: Relationships - family  
Word Count: 801  
Summary: Pursuit has a little accident while trying to fix a light  
Disclaimer: Transformers general concept is Hasbro's. Pursuit and Patrol are mine.  
Author Notes: Story happens when Pursuit is still very young, and living with her creator, Patrol.

* * *

A bang, followed by a crash and a slightly stifled cry, coming from the adjacent room made Patrol look up from cleaning his rifle and incline his head towards the sound. He'd left his little sparkling there playing with some toys and gone into his own quarters to service his weapon.

The young femme had a knack for taking apart gadgets to see how they worked before trying to put them back together again, so he'd bought her a few contraptions and let her play contently by herself for a while till he finished what he was doing. All had been well until that sound.

"Pursuit?" he called. "Are you alright?"

Silence met his audios and he worried, starting to rise.

The sparkling was all he had since his own mate died some time before she'd been created, and he had promised to look after the little one to the best of his ability. No harm would befall her as long as she was under his watch.

"Pursuit?"

There was a shuffle and a whimper, but still no answer as Patrol went to the door to see what had happened. He found the young femme picking herself off the floor. A stool lay toppled beside her and a light fixture sparked overhead. Fluid bled from a cut on her hand, and she looked at him with bright blue optics that were trying very hard not to tear.

It didn't take him long to put the events together as he picked her up in his arms and cuddled her, but he decided to let her tell him her version of it.

"What happened, little one?" he asked.

"The light blew," she said, matter-of-factly. "You were busy so I wanted to fix it myself, but I couldn't reach it. I thought the stool would help so I climbed on that, but it was wobbly, and I fell."

"Is that how you hurt your hand?"

She shook her head, doorwings drooping slightly. "I cut it on the light." She looked up at it sadly.

Patrol meanwhile was busy examining her hand. The cut was shallow and easy to patch with a piece of magna-strip to protect it from infection while it healed.

"That was dangerous, m'femme," he said. "You could have been seriously hurt."

"But I'm not. I was careful. It was just the stool. I can fix the light, really! Let me show you." Her doors rose a little hopefully. "Please?"

Patrol sighed. How in Primus' name was he supposed to resist this little femme when she looked at him like that? Slag but she had a good bit of his mate in her – that unshakable determination to never give up. She would have loved this sparkling as much as he did. He picked up her injured hand and gently kissed the back of it.

"Alright, but let me fix your hand first?"

She nodded as he set her on a table and retrieved the magna-strip. She held out her hand to him, biting her lower lip and watching intently as he cleaned and sealed the wound, doors twitching slightly.

"That'll make it all better?" she asked.

"Yup. In a few days the cut will be gone," he replied, patting her arm. "So? Ready to fix that light?"

"Yes!" she nodded eagerly. "Umm… but you'll have to help me. I can't reach."

Patrol chuckled, lifted her up and set her on his shoulder securely before walking back to the light. Pursuit found herself in easy reach now and a started to fiddle with the mechanism, her gentle features scrunched up in a bit of a frown as her small fingers started to connect wires here and patch bits of circuitry there.

Her creator watched her with optics that twinkled with just a little bit of pride. She was showing definite promise in the engineering field, and he ran through several possibilities of helping her improve her skills – if she wanted to of course. It didn't matter what she wanted to do or be, as long as she was happy with her chosen path, and he would do everything in his power to make sure she got what she wanted.

"Fixed it!" she called, throwing a switch and bathing the whole room in light.

"That's my clever femme," Patrol replied. He took her off his shoulder, but kept her in his arms, cuddling her again and smiling when he saw her doors perk and flap. "I knew you could do it. Well done, little one."

"Couldn't have done it without you," Pursuit said, snuggling close. "Love you."

Patrol gently kissed her forehead. "I love you, too, my beautiful little."

END.


	3. 076 Who

Title: **In Passing  
**Fandom: Transformers G1  
Characters/Pairings: Flattop, Pursuit. Appearance by Acer and Patrol  
Prompt: #076 Who.  
Rating: G  
Genre: relationships - strangers  
Word Count: 713  
Summary: He never thought well of out-of-towners, until he met her.  
Author Notes: Takes place when both bots are still rather young.

* * *

He sat on a bench in the middle of the city by himself, waiting for his best friend and his best friend's creator to show up. He really didn't want to be here, in this city, at all, but his friend's creator had to do a spot of work here and had no choice but to bring both younglings along with him since he couldn't find anyone to look after them at such short notice. They'd waited together a while, then his friend had gone off to look for his creator.

He was actually surprised his own creator hadn't thrown a fit, and had let him go.

"Go and see what cities like Praxus are like, and you'll be grateful to me for keeping you in Iacon," he had said.

Then again, maybe not all that surprised.

He looked around his surroundings. It was true. Praxus wasn't as vibrant and developed as Iacon was. In fact it looked downright boring. Was his creator right then? Was it a result of bots being too lazy and weak to bring up their city?

He watched the mechs and femmes as they went about their business. Even the inhabitants looked plain and dull, not as colorful as the Iaconians. Well it was no wonder then that their city was in such a state. If the bots couldn't take care of themselves, how could they maintain a whole city?

A couple walked passed him and he watched them go. They held hands and walked close to each other. A bonded pair perhaps. At one point they stopped and the mech leaned and kissed the femme, who responded by touching his cheek, before resuming their walk.

He snorted. Bonded indeed. He'd studied about it a little and knew the basic concept of course, but why on Cybertron would he want to give up his wings and his freedom to be tied down to another bot? He couldn't understand it at all, and no way was he ever going to let anyone hold him back like that. He'd rather be burned in a smelter than have that happen to him.

Loud, raucous laughter caught his attention then and he looked up to see a bunch of younglings around his age go charging down the street. As he followed them with his optics, he spotted another, younger femme coming up the street in the opposite direction holding a silver crystal carefully in her hands.

Neither party saw the other until it was too late. There were shouts of confusion, but it was the cry that came from the femme that made him stand quickly.

He walked towards them as the mechs moved off and left the femme sitting on the ground. She looked around frantically, most likely for the crystal she had been carrying that had fallen and been knocked further away. He picked it up and went over to her, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you dropped this." He held out the crystal to her.

She looked at him. "Um… thank you."

He smiled at her. She was cute, despite her rather plain black and grey colors. "You're welcome. Are you alright?"

She nodded, starting to pick herself up. "I'm okay."

He helped her stand and looked her over for any injury. "Yeah, you don't look hurt."

She smiled a bit. "Yeah. Thanks again."

"Anytime."

"Hey Topper!" He looked up to see Acer and his creator standing a little further away. "C'mon, lets go."

"Yeah, coming!" he called back. He looked at the femme. "Well, gotta go. Nice meeting you."

"You too."

"Who was that, Topper?" Acer asked him when he caught up.

"I don't know. Just some local femme. She fell down, I just helped her up."

"Well that was nice of you."

He shrugged.

She watched the blue-and-red mech join his companions and head off, as her own creator came over to her.

"Who was that, Pursuit?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "Just some mech from out of town. Iacon I think."

Patrol grunted. "I see. Well, let's get you home, little."

They headed off together in the opposite direction so she never noticed when the mech turned back one last time to look at her before he transformed and flew off.

END.


	4. 049 Lost

Title: **Bad News  
**Fandom: Transformers G1  
Characters/Pairings: Prowl, Jazz, Optimus Prime. Mention of Pursuit.  
Prompt: #049 Lost  
Rating: PG  
Genre: relationships – family, friendship  
Word Count: 1,371  
Summary: Prowl learns of the attack on Praxus.  
Author Notes: Takes place just after the Praxus attack when Flattop rescues Pursuit and takes her to the Nova Cronum Med Center.  
Disclaimer: Prowl, Jazz and Optimus Prime are canon.

* * *

"Prowl."

The mech in question looked up from his notes at the other black-and-white who stood at the doorway to their common room. The playful grin he normally wore was now replaced by a look of concern and Prowl immediately stood up.

"Is everything alright, Jazz?" he asked.

He'd never had a friend like Jazz before. Back in his young days he'd only known this talkative little fellow his creator had semi-adopted into their family on account that he spent so much time around them and had taken a liking to the femme, which in itself wasn't all that surprising. So Prowl in turn had ended up being something of an older brother to the mech.

The visored bot had been one of the first friends he'd made since leaving home and coming to Iacon. The two had gotten along splendidly and rose fast in the ranks till the High Council had finally taken notice of their skills and appointed them as officers to serve directly under the new Prime. So if his best friend needed help now, he was more than ready to offer his.

"Optimus wants t'see us immediately," Jazz replied.

Prowl reached him and the two of them headed down the hall at a steady clip. He couldn't help but feel an unusual sense of tension about Jazz that normally wasn't present, and began to try and narrow down what could be bothering his friend.

"Did he say what it was about?" he asked. "I would not like to go in uninformed."

"Not much, just that the 'Cons hit another city," Jazz replied.

"Do we know which city?"

Jazz didn't answer, but before Prowl could ask his question again, the other black-and-white steered them both through a doorway and into Optimus Prime's office.

"We're here, Optimus," Jazz said.

The big Autobot leader stood before large windows that overlooked the street and turned to them as the entered, gesturing for them to be seated. Once they were sitting he looked at each in turn, resting his gaze on Prowl for slightly longer and sighing deeply.

"Does he know yet?" he asked Jazz.

The mech shook his head. "I thought it'd be best if he heard it from you."

"I beg your pardon, both of you, but I'd rather you not talk as if I was not here. What is going on? Why am I here?"

"The Decepticons attacked Praxus about 4 megacycles ago," Prime said at last.

Prowl's optics flared at that, earning him worried glances from both Jazz and Prime. "Praxus?! How badly?!"

"They leveled it." Prime sighed. "No reports of any survivors so far. Everything's down – power, communications. I'm sorry Prowl, I understand you had family there."

Prowl nodded slowly. "I do, my creator and another young mech who liked to hang around her, but they must have escaped, surely. My creator is not one to just wait for someone to come along and try to kill her."

"If she did escape, we've not received any word of her, or of any other. Until, by some miracle, we do get word, we have to assume the worst."

Jazz reached over and gave his forearm a gentle squeeze, feeling him tense, but noting how the mech was still trying to maintain his composure eventhough his hands were curled into tight fists. "I'm sorry pal. Is there anything we can do for ya?" At least he didn't pull away.

"Take all the time you need Prowl."

"Thank you, both of you, but I'd like to remain on duty if that's okay with you, sir," Prowl replied curtly. "If you're sending assistance from Iacon, I would like to go with them."

The other black-and-white watched him. Prowl had never been one for big displays of emotion, prefering to show his feelings with a small smile here or a twitch of a door there, but after spending so much time with him, Jazz was now able to decipher most of the mech's subtle body language. The clenched fists told him that Prowl was way more upset than he was letting on, but was trying to hold a calm front in front of his commanding officer.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Prime said.

"Please, Optimus. I need to see for myself."

"If it's alright with you, Prime, I could go with him," Jazz offered, and was met with a grateful look from his friend.

Prime looked at the two, then sighed in resignation. "Alright. You have my leave to go. The next group leaves in half a megacycle, you can join them. Dismissed."

The two stood up, saluted, then quickly left the room. Outside in the hall Jazz raced to catch up with Prowl, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You sure you wanna do this? I mean, it ain't gonna be pretty out there," he said.

"I am quite aware of what it might be like," Prowl replied, a little tersely. "But I have to go and make sure. I owe my family that much at least. Now, you can come with me, you can help me, but you cannot talk me out of going Jazz, I wont hear it."

Jazz sighed and nodded. "Alright. I'm sorry this had to happen, Prowl, shallow as it may sound."

"I understand. Now let's hurry. That transport's waiting."

Nothing however, could have prepared Prowl for what they finally did see when their transport arrived at what remained of Praxus. The once homely city was now nothing more than a ruined blackened shell of its former self, and despite his attempts to remain calm, the second the door opened, Prowl shot out and sped down a street.

"Hey! Wait up!" Jazz swore, transformed and raced after his friend.

Prowl could barely recognize his own neighborhood when he reached it, but there was no way he could ever forget the house he had grown up in with his creator. He screeched to a halt and transformed before rushing into the burnt ruins of the little dwelling, regardless of whether it would collapse on top of him. Once inside, he started heaving piles of debris away from any potential area he thought may be concealing a hiding place, as if he expected to find someone underneath.

"Pursuit!" he called. "Are you in here?! Make some noise if you can hear me, please! Anything! I can't lose you!"

But except for the sound of his own laboring, the house remained silent. When Jazz finally ran in a while later, he found Prowl kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room staring at the ground, his doors drooped slightly. Carefully, he made his way over and knelt beside the distraught black-and-white.

"I'm sorry buddy," he said softly. "I'd like to say that maybe she managed to make it out of the city, but Iacon still hasn't received any reports of anyone from here reaching there. I talked to one of the team leaders on the way, and he said they've only found one survivor and they've taken him back to Iacon."

"Did they have a name for him?"

"Young mech by the name of Bluestreak. He said he'd been with a black-and-grey femme who helped him escape, but he doesn't know what happened to her. The last he saw was her shooting at Seekers."

"That would be Pursuit, my creator. At least Bluestreak made it though," Prowl said softly. "That's good news at least."

"Was he the one you talked about?"

"Yes." Prowl slapped the ground with his hand, making Jazz jump. "She was my creator!! She saved my life! Kept me from becoming a Decepticon myself. Now I've lost her, I've lost everything! I wanted to bring her back to Iacon with me as soon as Prime gave me my final posting, give her a better life, but I'm too late, she's lost."

Jazz could only put a hand on his shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze, in the hope that the gesture could offer more comfort than words. Prowl looked up at him, a dull look in his usually bright optics.

"I have nothing here anymore, Jazz," he said. "Tell Prime I'll be joining the energon mission after all."

END.


	5. 044 Discovery

Title: **Help Her**

Fandom: Transformers G1

Characters/Pairings: Flattop, Triage, and a special guest. Mentions of Pursuit.

Table: A

Prompt: #044 Discovery.

Rating: G

Genre: Relationships; family

Word Count: 1,929

Summary: Flattop and Triage go to Cybertron seeking aid for Pursuit. What they find was something completely unexpected.

Disclaimer: Flattop and Triage belong to Tirya.

Author Notes: Takes place when Flattop and Pursuit are based on Earth, and Charade has already been created.

Flattop removed his fist from the fairly large dent he'd put in the nearby wall, barely even registering the pain and the couple of sparking wires now exposed after he'd scraped off the metal skin. His handsome face was creased into a dark scowl, and the only reason he'd punched the wall instead of his creator was because his sister had dragged him away before he could.

Triage sighed and reached for his hand to check on the damage, pulling out a role of magna-tape to bind the wound and keep infection out. He watched her work without a word, noting the small dent on her cheek where the old fragger had tried to hit her. He would have landed a hard one, too, had he not pulled her out of the way so that he just grazed her instead.

"You're lucky it's just a scratch," she said, putting the tape away and looking at him.

"Should have let me beat some sense into him," Flattop growled.

"Top, whatever he is, he's still our creator. Besides, what good would it have done?"

"He would have given us the parts, that's what."

"It would have made him all the more stubborn, you know that."

Flattop looked as if he wanted to hit something again.

Triage placed a hand on his arm. "Don't. Save your anger for later. We can't waste time patching you up for every tantrum you throw. Think of Pursuit."

That sobered him. His beloved mate was back on Earth, afflicted with what was known as systems corruption. Humans thought that Cybertronians lived forever, but that was far from the truth. Cybertronians lived long, but not forever. They died eventually as well, and systems corruptions was one of the most common forms of termination.

After millions of years in existence, Pursuit's systems had finally reached the point where they were starting to wear and break down, and as a civilian, she wasn't entitled to any upgrades. Those in the military were entitled to compulsory upgrades once every few centuries – both sides couldn't afford to lose fighters after all – but the civilians, they were more expendable.

Not his Pursuit. He didn't care if he had to storm the High Council to get parts to repair her, he was NOT going to lose her. She meant too much him to just give her up. He'd take on Primus himself if it came down to it.

"I am thinking of her. So what do we do? We can't get the parts through official means because our glitched-up creator refuses to have them cleared, and I don't have any other sources to go through." He spun away and continued down the street, letting Triage catch up with him. "I can't lose her, Tri." He stopped when she didn't reply. "Tri?"

Turning around, he saw her standing where they had been, another dark-looking mech blocking her path. Cursing, he rushed back as the two headed into an alley. Just what was his sister thinking following some strange mech into a potentially deserted area? He didn't have time for this!

Charging into the alley he was about to tackle the other mech when Triage jumped in between them.

"Wait!"

Flattop pulled himself to a stop just in time. "Triage! What the frag do you think you're doing?!"

The femme flinched a little. "He… he said he could help." She gestured to the other mech who hadn't moved.

"Help with what?" Flattop eyed him suspiciously.

The mech was cloaked in a dark hologram that prevented them from getting a proper look at him, or from being able to make out any defining features. Only his face was partially visible, and keen blue optics shone back at them.

"You're in need of parts repair someone. I can help you," he said.

"How?" The flier glared at him.

"I have my own connections, lad." The mech didn't back down. "The femme tells me you need them for your mate, another femme, down on Earth?"

"How do you know we were looking for parts?"

"I was nearby, I overheard. Her name is… Pursuit?"

"That's none of your business."

"Top, if he can help her, what have we got to lose?" Triage asked quietly.

The jet's tensed wings lowered a little, but he still didn't relax, looking for something that would tell him he could trust the mech. It was clear he was an Autobot, but it still puzzled him as to why a complete stranger would offer to help someone he obviously didn't know. No one did anything for nothing these days.

"What is your name? And what do you want from us in return for your helping us?" Flattop asked.

"You can call me Guard. As for my payment, I will decide on it once you tell me what it is you really need and how much of it," the mech replied.

Flattop sighed. He would have liked to check up on this mech more, but time was pressing and Pursuit needed those parts. Maybe she wasn't going to die in the next couple of Earth decades or so, but he hated seeing her in pain and wanted to heal her as soon as possible. Neither did he want to be away for longer than was necessary, because he missed her.

"Yes, it's for a femme," he said at last. "My mate, Pursuit. She's… she's started systems corruption, and I have to save her."

Guard's optics brightened a little. "Follow me."

… He led them to a sector of Iacon that soon became all too familiar to Flattop, and instinctively he placed an arm around Triage's shoulders, weapons at the ready incase he needed to draw them. The High Council preferred to think this sector didn't exist, but the place was a reality and thriving.

"You sell parts on the black market," Flattop said.

"Not everyone is as lucky to be in the military, or as privileged to be able to bribe someone for them, lad," Guard replied. "As I'm sure you know."

The jet nodded. "Are they good?"

"We pool our resources to get the best genuine materials we can, though now and then we mix a couple of substitutes in to stretch it as far as possible across the market. Genuine stuff is hard to come by these days."

"How long will they last a bot?" Triage asked. She stayed close to Flattop and eyed the surroundings warily.

"Fairly long. At least a few more millenia." He smiled at her – a warm, friendly smile. "You needn't be afraid of harm here. As long as you're with me, no one will dare try anything on either of you, if they value their hides." He turned a corner. "So this femme of yours, you love her?"

Flattop gave a bit of a snort. "I'd die for her. She's everything to me."

"And they have a son, too," Triage added. "Well, it's her second son, but her first with him. Her first son she created on her own. You may have heard of him – Prowl."

"I see. Yes, I think I have heard of Prowl. Part of Optimus Prime's crew."

She nodded. "That's him."

"Must be a very special femme then."

Flattop smiled fondly. "You have no idea."

"Oh, maybe I do." He stopped in front of a small building and ushered them in. "Here we are."

Inside was a small manufacturing plant that produced a wide variety of parts, but Guard led them right past the mass produced ones. He stopped in front of a group of mechs who were working on a series of machines and got their attention.

"Alright, listen up. I need a complete set of 100 genuine material parts. Do NOT stint on them or I'll use your hides as target practice, and I want them packed and ready to go as soon as possible. Now cut the slag and get to it. This is what I need."

Guard started to call out parts, and Flattop found himself frowning deeper and deeper with every named piece. Triage looked a little shocked as well. As soon as the older mech was done, Flattop grabbed him and pulled him over to a corner, optics shining dangerously.

"Alright, what are you trying to pull?" he snapped. "How do you know what parts we need when we haven't even showed you her schematics?"

To their surprise, the mech laughed. "Lad, I don't need to see the schematics of a femme that I put together all those years ago. I couldn't forget even if I wanted to."

Flattop was floored. Triage let out a squeak of surprise. Guard deactivated the cloak and they saw his true form. The doors, the bright red chevron and the mostly black and dark grey coloration. There was no mistaking who's creator this was.

"You… you're Pursuit's father!" Flattop managed.

"I am. The name's Patrol. I'm sorry about the secrecy, but I had to be sure I could trust you as well, before revealing myself and the location of this place. For all I knew you were another Official," he said. "Now what's this about my little femme being sick, and who's the fragger that's being refusing her parts?" A rather large shotgun appeared in his hand.

Flattop gulped. "Doesn't matter now, I mean, you're taking care of it right? Who better than her creator?"

Patrol eyed the mech. "So you're the one she mated in the end hmm? How has she been? You treating her right, keepin' her happy?"

"Yes, sir."

Triage stifled a giggle, watching her big brother cower slightly before the very mech he was threatening only a moment ago. "He adores her. We wouldn't have come all this way if he didn't. And he saved her life."

Patrol regarded him. "Did you now?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure you know about Praxus. I found her, got her to help." Flattop looked back at him.

The older mech grunted. "Had to fall for a flier, but… as long as she's happy."

"Patrol, I love her. She's my life."

The mech sighed. "I know lad, I can tell, that's why I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you get those parts to her."

"Thank you." Flattop paused for a moment. "Wont you come back with us? She'd love to see you again, I know."

"Nothing would please me more than to see my little one again, but there's things that need to be done here. This place needs to be looked after, and I need to make sure I can trust the person I leave it to before I can even think of heading off-planet. I will try though, as soon as I am able, now that I know where she is."

"We'll look out for you then." Flattop held out a hand.

"You do that." Patrol took it and gave it a firm shake.

Triage watched them, half-amused and half-concerned. This was something as old as the universe itself – the rivalry between creator and the creation's mate over a common love. Either way it was going to be interesting to see how Flattop and Patrol would co-exist.

END.


	6. 084 He

Title: **She's Mine, Too**

Fandom: Transformers G1

Characters/Pairings: Patrol, Flattop and Pursuit.

Table: A

Prompt: #084 He

Rating: G

Genre: relationships, family

Word Count: 733

Summary: Patrol and Flattop have a few words.

Author Notes: Takes place after Patrol comes to Earth.

Of all the mechs she could have fallen for, she just had to go and fall in love with a flier - an Iaconian, no less. Patrol sighed to himself and shook his head. He knew the bot was a good mech, but it didn't necessarily mean that the blue Intel Officer was good enough for his only creation. Yes, he had saved her life on two occasions, but she needed someone could make her laugh, and all that was for nothing if he couldn't make her happy.

He crossed his arms and watched as the mech transformed and landed gently on the grass, then took the femme into his arms, spinning them around a couple of times as they embraced. Patrol recalled when he used to pick her up and twirl her around till she started to giggle, back when she was younger and slightly smaller. He wondered if she remembered it.

The mech set her down, then leaned and kissed her cheek, receiving a smile in return. It was not new, Patrol mused. He used to do the same for her everyday, just to let her know she was loved. Did that mech do likewise? Did he tell her how much he loved her? Did he prove it to her? Primus help the mech if he was just exploiting her affection for his own selfish desires. One could never tell when it came to fliers.

As the couple walked back, they spotted him, and she broke away from the mech and ran to him. He caught her as she lunged to hug him and held her close, kissing her cheek as he rocked her gently, a part of him wanting to hold her like this and never give her back to that Iaconian.

"How've you been, Dad?" she asked.

He smiled a bit at the use of the Earthen terminology. "Just fine, m'girl, and how are you? Feeling better?"

She nodded. "I heard you helped."

"You're my creation aren't you? Of course I helped. I thought I'd lost you once, it was not going to happen again. Nothing's going to hurt my little."

She smiled at him and nuzzled, as the mech reached them and kept at a respectful distance.

"I'm glad you made it, Patrol," he said.

"So am I," he replied. "I missed her."

"I know the feeling. She's hard to be away from."

She pulled away. "Alright then, the two of you carry on talking about me, I'm going to see if everything's okay with Dad's quarters." Blowing them both a kiss, she hurried into the base.

Patrol turned to the mech. "A word, Flattop."

The mech looked visibly nervous and twitched. Good.

"Of course."

"I don't know if Pursuit has already told you, but I can be a protective old fragger when it comes to her," Patrol said. "She was all I had when my own mate died, and I love her deeply. I was the first mech in her life, and it's hard to let go of that."

"I'm not here to take her away from you, sir, but I love her as well - very much. She means everything to me."

"Forgive my bluntness, but my mate was killed by a flier, and I'll be slagged if I let another flier harm my only daughter. You may not understand now, but when your creations are grown up and some other bot comes into the picture, you'd be hard-pressed to know that you're not the only one they love anymore."

Flattop nodded. "No, I understand. And I want you to know that I am nothing but careful with Pursuit."

"I appreciate you saving her life, Flattop, but if you hurt her, if you make her cry in any way and I hear about it, I'll have your wings."

The mech looked at him. "Patrol, if I ever do anything to wound her spark, I'll hand you the shotgun myself."

Patrol nodded. "Just so we're clear."

"Crystal," Flattop replied.

Well, maybe he wasn't so bad after all, Patrol thought as they headed inside together. Besides, he did trust his creation's judgment, and if she thought this flier was the right one for her, then he was not going to question her choice or stand in her way.

All the same though, maybe he'd give his old shotgun a bit of practice. Never knew when he'd need it.

END.


End file.
